


The Quarterstaff

by TarTarIcing



Category: Dota 2
Genre: Gen, I lost control of my life, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarTarIcing/pseuds/TarTarIcing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morphling improvises with an item. Implied slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quarterstaff

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m going to hell for this.

_“Why do I do this?”_

That was a question the alien form thought of when he squeezed himself onto a rock face. He held a newly bought quarterstaff in hand, dodging the shopkeeper’s snicker. He observed the armament’s form: thin, cylindrical, and smooth. Its corners were rounded and there was no splinter to be found. Why did he have a need for it? He already attacked well enough and fast enough, maybe that’s why the shopkeeper snickered…

He examined his own anatomy. His body did not conform to the standards of human science, instead branding him as a genderless elemental alien. There were no sexual dimorphic characteristics, no appearance of genitalia, and most of all no visible cavities. Yet the creature was capable of intercourse, with the ability to morph himself a male member, or a female hole without altering his entire body. Was there the consequence of reproduction? Was there a _possibility_ of reproduction?

Morphling didn’t know, but he knew himself of deriving sexual pleasure from sexual activity. He remembers morphing into people who’ve done it. He remembers using this “sexual activity” to charm others.

Now he was on the receiving end of it. Eons and eons of karma have descended upon him, as he morphed himself a female hole and eased the end of a quarterstaff in. He clamped his mouth shut as he felt his walls stretch to its shape, taking in more of the length. He slammed a fist on the ground as his bottom kicked forward. He twisted in the armament slowly, letting small waves of pleasure undulate through him. The armament only slid out by an inch because of the water.

“Ai!” Morphling let out a soft groan as he pushed it back in, and out, and in, and out and so forth. Other Radiant allies knew him as a possibly innocent, playful yet dignified creature, but Darchrow, the Enigma fundamental knew the truth. Darchrow knows him as the stoic, psychopathic alien who would stop at nothing to have… _What exactly_?

He fought with Darchrow, intensely, hatefully, and yet _passionately_. A Radiant alien and a Dire fundamental, were bitter rivals from the span of Ancient’s war.

However, a night of fighting in the forest had changed it all. There was doubts on whether it was the moon, or some morbid battle frenzy, but they broke and had a night of passion. Or in Morphling’s memory: _Darchrow_ was the one who broke. He remembers the fundamental’s crazed thrusting inside his hole, the way his hole quickly morphed into being, stretched and tightened in one fell swoop. He remembers how hazy his mind was, only to make gurgling noises and growl upon climax instead of speak. He remembers how he couldn’t control how tight the hole gotten, making it unbearable for Darchrow, who reciprocated by thrusting harder and further. It all melded into the fact that it was _Darchrow_ that stopped him, _Darchrow_ to knock him down… _Darchrow_ had conquered him.

Looking back upon the experience, Morphling was disgusted with himself, but at the same time craved the feeling of being dominated and being mated to the point of mindlessness. Those were reasons why he was squatting at a rock, pushing a quarterstaff in and out of his hole. He let an enemy fundamental invade him and he was trying to recreate the same exact experience.

Yet to no avail, he stabbed in and yanked out, only to feel a fraction of the ecstasy. He shuddered to Darchrow’s voice, echoing in his mind, telling him how unwanted he was.

_“You’re nothing but an unwelcome pest in this plane, Morphling,” The enigma groaned, “I could kill you now, but I’d rather see an alien like you suffer. Realize how lucky you are that I’m doing this with you.” His hand held down the alien’s head, eliciting growls and mewls as he pressed deeper, “It’s sad, but it’s the best the universe can offer.”_

He planted a hand on the ground, impaling himself with the quarterstaff. Knowing that he was close, he gripped the object tighter, as it had gotten slick with water. Panting loudly, eyes squeezed shut, he sped up until the point of release, letting out a gurgling scream in the process.

A strong spray came from the hole as he dropped the quarterstaff and let it roll on the ground. Morphling slumped, at least satiated and ideally tired, scanning his surroundings slowly.

As for that question, he is not entirely sure.


End file.
